


soup

by Kazanma



Category: Extracurricular Activities (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, M/M, ex boyfriends, past angst, taking care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:54:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22780591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kazanma/pseuds/Kazanma
Summary: Spencer's sick. Dozer wants to help him, yet he still finds himself comparing Spencer to Harvey.
Relationships: Dozer Dozer/Spencer Caldon





	soup

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hello there.
> 
> I-
> 
> I have nothing to say for myself, except that college is killing me off. Canon's been taken out and shot in an alley, with my gun. Also, this is based off a prompt, and it's supposed to be a bit angsty, so... That's cool? I might make more fanfics for this fandom, since I already enjoy this novel, but the few fanfics there... Oof. (I technically wrote like two of them, and one of those two is orphaned because it drains my energy to see that project, knowing I can't come back to it with the same enthusiasm). Anyways, here's WonderBread

“I made you some soup, and I’m going to sit here until you eat it. I can wait.”

Just like that, Dozer sits on the chair next to Spencer's bed. His expression is calm, like always. It bothers him, because of the way his arms are making an effort (just like Dozer) to avoid showing too much concern. Too much control over himself.

"You don't have to." Spencer tries to give it back, the bowl of soup, the one that has a golden line instead of a crack, but Dozer puts it in his hands again.

"I told you, you need this."

Spencer takes the bowl of soup, and he wonders how bad he looks to deserve this. He can handle a cold, allergies, and even a bloody nose, so this is isn't something that he can take. This is nothing. Vomiting and staying up until six in the morning is a situation he's already used to, when he lived with his family.

He looks at Dozer, again. There he is, he looks like nothing is bothering him. His hands stop clenching down on his palms, and his tail is not going anywhere.

"I can't take this. It's, it's not something I need right now..."

Those words take a lot from him, like ripping his soul apart, cutting each piece until it's a mess of paper and blood. 

It's not that he can't take it, but that's part of the problem. Admitting that he's weak... No. He's not that weak, he handled this before, it's something that he can survive, again, he had to deal with this at some point.

"Sorry, but you don't look well, no matter what you tell me."

"It's not—"

"I know. But you still have to."

"I have to do what?"

Dozer tightens his control over himself like a coil, almost waiting for something so he can jump out (but for what? Does he expect him to act up in this moment?), and touches Spencer's forehead. His brows furrow, yet he doesn't react in a drastic way.

"You're playing dumb."

"I noticed that. Do you understand why?"

Spencer's tone is the same he uses when Eric screws up, and, like a kid, he has to scold him. He looks away, trying to focus on the smell of the chicken soup, it's so captivating, he feels his mouth watering. He wants to put his hands around it and eat it like it's going to be his last meal, but looking at it once, and twice.

It's almost like his stomach is going to kick his ass because of this. And he can't approve of this.

"I can't." 

It's an admission of defeat. Whenever Spencer says something in that tone, most of the time Eric gives up, and he leaves him alone. Yet...

"But that's fine, I don't need to. Unless you want to stay at home, and sick, then try the soup."

He still wants to stick around? Huh. It's not an attack on Eric, because he's a nice guy, but, as he sees now, Dozer just tells him that he'll be here.

"Sorry."

"It okay."

Spencer's the first one to apologise. His ears lower, and he brings the hot bowl closer to his muzzle. He sniffs the bowl, before taking a deep sigh. He drinks for two seconds, before putting it down. Surprising, as he hasn't burnt his tongue with it.

"It reminds me of home."

And it does. When his brothers were sick, he would help his mom with the kitchen, mostly cleaning, as he burned the pots often. She would laugh it off and tell him to search for the next one. 

Dozer smiles, with how quiet he is, his expressions do slip unnoticed, like a ghost tucking you in your bed.

"Thank you." Dozer stands up from his chair, and opens a window, there's no one outside, now that he thinks of it.

"You called Eric, right?"

"Yeah, we didn't see you for Coach's class, and when calculus rolled around, we were worried."

So he does care. Spencer chuckles, putting his head against the headboard of the bed. His stomach growls, asking for more food. Maybe, just for a second, he can indulge in this soup.

"He couldn't stay, I suppose?"

"I asked him to leave. He wasn't panicking, but I had something to talk with you."

"And what is it, then?"

He stays quiet, since both of them are playing a game of catch. Spencer starts to throw something that Dozer doesn't reply, and he waits. He's getting used to this. 

Dozer's tail moves around, snaking around the chair leg, it doesn't drop. Moving it around, Dozer gets to show some vulnerability instead of control. 

He's mulling over his words, while he's keeping track of where the soup is. Spencer sips on the soup, still. Taking a small mouthful each time, careful. Otherwise, he'll vomit it out, too, and he won't get to enjoy this twice.

Seven minutes pass, yet they feel like more. Dozer starts and finishes sentences before they're even out of his mouth, and his hands tend to press on each other, while Spencer leaves the bowl on the table, and walks towards him.

Reach out, I can understand. Does he really want to say that? It's almost like there's a secret inside of him, but it's not something he can pry out of him. His hands stop, too close, yet too far to comfort him. He doesn't know the difference between the two.

"Are you still pining after him?" 

That's the question that leaves him speechless.

"How did you—?"

Dozer chuckles.

"It's my intuition."

Spencer gets closer, almost like he wants to hug him. He can hear the words in his head, over and over again, and he can't bring himself to react or understand them, because giving them an image is to make those fears come back at him, when he was cheated out of love. He sees the same hesitation when Dozer opens a hand, taking Spencer's in. 

"I want to forget that. Pretend like it never happened."

They're having two different conversations by this point, like they're talking past each other, instead of confronting this.

This silence stretches for a few seconds, like it's just some.magic that won't make them talk, forgotten in the middle of a room, on a abnormally cold afternoon. 

But, when Spencer thinks about a moment where his whole mind makes that scratch record sound, is when Dozer speaks.

"Me too, Harvey."


End file.
